A Dark Past With a Dark Future
by maesteroftales
Summary: A young woman washes up on the shores of the Anduin to be found by two brothers. But who is she? And how did she get there?


It was a clear day along the docks of the Harlond. Birds darted from the top of buildings and tweeted songs to each other. The sounds of cranes cranking up cargo from the docked ships rivaled that of the birds and so too could the sound of Gondorian yelling and ordering. It was business as usual that day, nothing odd or unexpected. All the boats were on time and the workers were on their best behavior. And all for good reason. Special visitors were coming to the Harlond...

* * *

"Wow!" Faramir exclaimed as he looked out from the carriage at the boats arriving at the Harlond, "Boromir! Look at all the boats!"

Faramir was thirteen and had yet to leave the White City, so even a small day trip to the Harlond was big for him. The he'd only ever seen these boats at a distance from the White Tower. His grey eyes sparkled in wonder as the ships drew up and began to unload cargo from Pelargir and Dol Amroth.

His older brother Boromir, being eighteen and rather distracted by giggling girls who were walking the other way as the carriage, merely nodded without looking back and mumbled, "Yes. Very good looking too."

Seeing his brother was paying more attention to the women rolled his eyes, "Gross Boromir. Do you have to do that in front of me? And you aren't fooling anyone. We all know you just want to get in their beds. If we let you off the leash, you'd be out bedding every woman from Anórien to the Anfalas."

"I know you just speak out of ignorance, brother," Boromir grinned, "You'll be just like me in a couple of years."

Faramir raised an eyebrow and chuckled, "My appearance will wither that fast? By the time I'm twenty I'll probably get mistaken for an Istari."

The brothers shared a laugh that was quickly cut short by a grim and authoritative voice, "An Istari? Perish the thought. I'd sooner roast myself alive then see you become one of them."

The stiff form of Denathor shifted in his dark corner of the carriage as his keen eyes peered at his sons, "He is right of course, Faramir. I myself was like Boromir at one time, but I grew up. I cannot say the same for him. All I can say is that you'd better grow up soon, young man or I'll whip you so hard over the mountains that Theoden will have to send you back."

"Oh give me a break father," Boromir rolled his eyes, "and let me have my fun."

"Fun?" Denethor replied in a cold voice that made Faramir shudder a bit, "Fun is for idle elves and drunken dwarves. Real men are not so easily distracted by such frivolous things. Best not get any ideas into your heads either. You'll both marry upstanding Gondorian ladies from strong families. Not one of these commoners."

All sound inside the carriage ceased as the boys returned to silently staring out at the people bustling around the port. Within a few minutes the carriage stopped and the door opened up. Faramir, with a wide smile on his face, raced out to get his surroundings. Boromir merely chuckled and got out nonchalantly while Denathor brooded a bit in his dark corner before giving a 'harrumph' and getting out of the carriage.

Faramir's wide eyes took in everything they could while Boromir gave an indifferent gaze but his eyes lit up when they would fall on his awestruck brother. Meanwhile Denathor had hobbled out of the carriage to blink in the bright sunlight.

Several soldiers approached in the uniform of Gondor. The one who appeared as the leader stopped short and gave a snappy salute.

"Lord Denathor, it is an honor to have you visit us. We hope everything here is up to your standards and regulations. I am Captain Earomir and will be leading you around," the man said in a gruff voice.

If Denathor even cared for the speech he didn't show it and waved his hand dismissively, "Yes yes, let's get on with it yes?"

The guardsman's face seemed to seem a bit put out before giving a quick nod and motioning them to follow him. Denathor moved forward followed by his sons as they stepped down onto the docks.

The Harlond's man quays shot out into the fast flowing waters of the Anduin as several ships pulled in and out of them. Faramir was able to see some bearing the flag of Dol Amroth and others had that of Pelargir. As they walked along the docks Earomir went on and on about how well the shipping was doing and how all the boats were always on schedule. Of course this caused the small family to fall into complete boredom. Faramir just sat down on the edge of one of the docks while Boromir started whittling at a small piece of driftwood he found. Even Denethor stood silently on the outside but his fingers began to tap out a little beat on his stick.

While Faramir tried to drown out the sound of the dull captain's report, his eyes wandered and strayed to examine a piece of stray wood floating down the river. It was very odd looking and shaped rather strange. As it drifted closer down the river, Faramir noticed it had not bark but leather strapped to it... and hair...

Faramir's eyes widened as he cried out, "There! There's someone in the water! There!"

The others turned to see what Faramir was yelling about and diverted their eyes to the floating figure. At once there was more yelling and the sound of running. Denethor barked orders to Earomir who in turn barked orders to his men. Meanwhile none noticed that Boromir had torn off his tunic and was running along the docks.

In a few moments there was a SPLASH! And with that Boromir was swimming at full speed toward the figure. He did not heed the yells of his father or the encouragements of his younger brother. With each push through the mighty current he got closer and closer to the figure. He now saw that two arrows stuck from it. One in the leg and one through the abdomen. The figure wore a tight wound fabric around it's head that made a kind of mask. With one final push he reached the figure and pulled it into his arms. Once he made sure it's head was above water he began to make his way back to shore.

A few minutes later, on a small beach just south of the Harlond, Boromir washed up ashore with the figure. All was quiet as he quickly worked to see what creature he had just saved. The wrappings were of tough black leather almost looking like orc make and was far to big for it. Boromir frowned at the possible notion that he may have just saved an orc.

With deft hands he quickly unwrapped the thick fabric from the figure's head and within minutes was stricken with wonder.

Before him was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her face was shapely though her cheeks were rather gaunt. Her skin was a rich caramel cream color that sparkled with the water on her face. Her lips were full and slightly parted to reveal rows of pearly white teeth. But it was her hair that got him. Black as twilight with strings of gold tied in with it like precious stars on a black night. Her breaths were short and came every few seconds. Boromir gave a sigh of relief. She was alive although barely.

The sound of running through the brush approached him and within moments, Faramir appeared from the woods behind him. His eyes grew wide as he noticed the girl. He ran over to his brother and knelt down beside the girl. Like his brother, he too lost his breath for a moment, gazing on the washed up angel before them.

"Who is she?" the young boy finally got out.

Boromir shrugged in response, "I don't know. She doesn't seem to be no older than seventeen though."

"She looks... Foreign..."

"No shit," Boromir grunted out, "She's a southron no doubt and in orc rags at that."

Faramir nodded hesitantly before adding in, "She's still alive. We should help her..." His eyes drifted to the arrows dug into her flesh, the blood oozing from it. "We should help her soon. Now," he added quickly.

Boromir gave a nod, "She needs help. Go fetch father. GO!"

With a nod and a run, Faramir was running down the path back up to the Harlond. Boromir gave a sigh and began to unwrap the cloth around her neck. The first thing he saw was a small necklace made of bone and gold. Shaped like a crescent moon on one side and a blazing sun on the other, it glinted a bit in the sunlight. As he took off more of the cloth to see it better something caught his eye.

A mark, dug into her skin rather cruelly adorned her collar bone. A horrid eye that stared back at him unwavering.

The Eye of Sauron.

He had just saved a servant of the Dark Lord.


End file.
